I Knew You Were Treble
by Mei-Fabula
Summary: AU; Beca made an oath to The Bellas and to herself that she won't get emotionally attached to anyone. It makes it difficult when Jesse is such a sweetheart to her...but getting involved with a Treblemaker is self-explanatory...
1. Bad DJ's, Karaoke Duets

Whoever hired the DJ needs to climb a massive mountain and fall off the edge. Preferably along with the dodgy-as-hell equipment that he's using to pass as making music.

Seriously, you'd think at a Barden University Halloween party there'd at least be decent beats to drown out the fact that we all had to dress up and attend. I guessed that's what the kegs of alcohol were for; saving our senses from how lame this was.

I scratched at my thick, black costume wig, shaking it until I was satisfied with relieving the itch that the plastic had on my scalp. I'd only been here for half an hour and was already feeling the urge to ditch and escape out the back doors, but I knew Chloe was counting on me being here—and the fact that she was watching me like a hawk. All I had to do was wait until she was drunk enough not to notice my absence.

"Ladies, one at a time!" I heard from behind me, and I turned to see none other than Bumper leading his pack of cliché a Capella's, The Treblemakers, into the room. Oh, the agonising puns that accompanied their name was what ironically summed them up. Trouble.

Especially Jesse, but trouble in another sense of the word. He made it a daily routine of dropping at least one stack of CD's in an attempt to prove he had the balance and control of a Samurai warrior at work. I can see Luke fractioning towards insanity with the mess Jesse puts in his path with each passing day.

And, of course, he has this certain…_obsession_ with me.

"Beca!" he called, separating himself from the group to stand before me. "Oh, sorry, you're not Beca. You seem to be some sort of ghastly enchantress that just crawled out of a well."

"Nice guess, but I'm actually Morticia, if you can't tell by the long arm drapes."

"That was actually going to be my second guess. I think the scowl on your face kind of put me off," Jesse said, poking the corner of my frown I hadn't realised I had. I slapped his hand away and assessed his costume. His skin was painted with white powder and detailed open wounds. If it weren't for the fact that he looked like a frat loser, he'd make a pretty cool zombie.

"What are you? A dead jock?"

Jesse mocked offended and tugged at his bloodied, shredded letterman jacket. "I'll take a member of the dead Breakfast Club or nothing, thank you."

"You're such a dork," I laughed.

Jesse smiled down at me. It was a lazy, admiring type of smile, and it was enough for the pit of my stomach to flutter, so I immediately shut down any further emotions that attempted to erupt. Jesse must have noticed my discomfort, for he winced and said, "Is this guy a DJ or a teacher who enjoys dragging their nails down a chalkboard?"

"I've decided that he's actually both," I said. "I'm really going to need a strong drink to make it through tonight."

"Well, a drink is coming your way!" Jesse beamed as he escaped through the crowd of people.

In a strange way, Jesse was such a good friend, regardless of the fact that we were potentially 'a ca-enemies'—as Amy calls it. He seemed to stray from Bumper's distaste for The Bellas—especially when it came to me. I had no idea why he'd taken such an interest in me of all people, and why it was so simple for me to want a drink and he'd go rushing away to get me it.

Jesse appeared back at my side with two red plastic cups, handing one to me. "You need to lighten up, Bec. It's Halloween; stop looking like someone is going to jump out behind you and—" He was quick to straddle my waist in a ticklish grasp, and I could help but elicit a sound between screaming and laughing.

"Jesse—ha—stop—_oh my God_!" I squirmed, pushing his hands away a little harshly.

"Damn," he said, rubbing his wrists from my aggression. "It must be a full moon because the animal is wild!"

"Shut up," I said, taking a swig of my drink. The bitter substance burned the insides of my throat as it made its descend, and I tried my hardest not to look like it hurt the crap out of me.

"You did say strong," Jesse commented, watching my reaction like he knew exactly what was going on in my head. It pissed me off how he could do that; how he could tell my moods or what I was thinking. I didn't want to be figured out, especially by him. Let's call it a weakness of mine, a guard I refuse to let anyone bring down. It's easier that way; then there are no complications. By the direction Jesse was heading in, I needed to stop him before he got in too deep.

I felt two petite hands clasp my forearm and I was pulled into face to face contact with Chloe's nose. She was smiling that smile that said, _I'm so drunk that I don't care if I head-butt you right now because I won't feel it!_

"I'm so glad you stayed," she said hazily, her eyes wide and breath tainted with mixed spirits. She was dressed in some sort of bunny-esque costume with a leotard that barely covered anything, also equipped with a fluffy tail and ears. "Isn't this so much fun?"

"Having a blast," I said with heavy sarcasm that I knew she wouldn't pick up. "But it looks like you are enjoying yourself a little too much."

She brushed her ginger locks behind her ear and shook her head, only to have the strands fall back in front of her face once more. This time, she left it—or didn't she even realise?

"You need to let go, Beca! Let _loooose_!" she said as she spun on the spot. Her balance deceived her and I had to put my arms out to stable her flailing body.

"Please be careful," I muttered as she basically pranced away. Can a person actually _prance _away? I guess anything was possible when you were that plastered.

Soon enough, Jesse was back, this time looking a lot thicker than I'd seen him before. And his drink was filled back up. "I have a challenge for you," he said, the words slipping off his tongue carelessly.

"A challenge?"

He nodded coolly, coming dangerously close to my personal space bubble. It took every ounce of my self-control not to push him away.

"You, me, and the karaoke," he smirked, pointing towards the small stage set up on the far end of the room.

"I don't know—"

Before I could even properly protest, Jesse took my hand and led me towards it.

Perhaps if the room were to go on forever and Jesse and I never made it to the daunting microphones.

Perhaps I could just pull out of his weak grip and he wouldn't have enough reaction time to seize me again.

Perhaps, deep down, I actually did want to get up and sing—but for whose benefit? Mine? Or his?

"We are gonna sing…Endless Love!" Jesse grinned as he handed me a mic and set up the song.

"A duet? Really?" I laughed. Jesse ignored my words, looked me in the eyes and sang, "_My love…_"

Up until the moment he opened his mouth, I'd forgotten how amazing his vocals were. Without fail, my mouth ran dry as I listened to the way his voice carried smoothly through the first verse.

"_There's only you in my life,_

_ The only thing that's right._"

He didn't even look twice at the lyrics on the screen, giving his full attention to my eyes. I refused to think that he was singing _to _me; rather treating this like any other duet couple would.

With all my overthinking, I almost missed my cue and had to speed up to catch my place.

"_My first love…_

_ You're every breath that I take,_

_ You're every step I make._"

Jesse smiled into the microphone in response to my singing. He took my hand in a goofy manner, squeezed his eyes shut and serenaded the chorus with mock-passion. "_And I, I want to share all my love with youuuuuu!_" His voice cracked at the end from attempting to hit a high note—probably a side-effect of his drunken state. The microphone screeched and a few members of the crowd groaned. My laughter filtered through my voice as I tried to keep in pace with his.

"Can't keep up?" he said breathlessly mid-lyrics, winking. Yes, I had to admit it was a little difficult being stuck in his capturing gaze and try to read the lyrics off the screen simultaneously. And it was painfully frustrating that he was intoxicated and could still memorise the words, without fail, and not once take his eyes off me.

"_Oh, yes you will always be my endless love,_" we finished together. Jesse still had hold of my hand, but I coughed briskly and pulled it from his grasp.

Without even looking back at Jesse, I hopped off the stage and within seconds I was lost in the crowd. It was only until a hand grasped my wrist when I was plunged into the face of Aubrey—sporting a skimpy Alice in Wonderland dress and black bow. Why I managed to dress up in the least sexy costume was beyond me.

"What was that, Beca?" Aubrey said, her lips pursed with a slight quiver.

"That was a karaoke duet…" I responded, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it was more than a _karaoke duet_," she snapped. "Jesse was basically penetrating you with his eyes!"

"Jesus, Aubrey, really? Again with the 'penetrate'?"

"Just don't forget the oath," she hissed before storming off, taking one glance back in that _I'm still watching you_ kind of way. She thought she was intimidating, but I saw right through her façade.

And how could I forget that oath? We literally lost two girls on the first Bellas rehearsal day because of it, and Aubrey attempted to pin me with having a thing for Jesse. Of course, nothing happened, or has yet to happen.

Or will ever happen.

Jesse and I were competitive rivals, workmates, and friends in some sense—but in no way, shape or form, were we interested in each other. Some girls could mistake his attentiveness in conversations and cheekiness for a sign of flirtation, but I wasn't fooled. Remember what I said about trouble? This was another reason. No guy I've ever met hasn't had a motivation to get into another girl's pants, and trust me, I've been screwed over before. I wasn't about to let it happen again—

My mind was completely taken away by the fact that _someone grabbed me and literally threw me over their shoulder!_

"What the hell?!" I shrieked, punching their back. That's when I saw the stitched numbers of the letterman and realised it was Jesse. He placed me down outside by the garden, laughing foolishly.

"You just left me up on that stage like an idiot," he said, pouting.

"And you scared me, so we're even," I grumbled, folding my arms.

"It's Halloween, Beca! Scaring is the best part!" he smiled a lop-sided smile, crashing drunkenly onto me. He tried steadying himself, and I tried helping but we ended up in tangled limbs—and when I mean limbs, I mean his lips fumbled onto my unexpected ones.

His lips.

He was kissing me.

I was kissing Jesse.

Oh, my God.

And in that moment, with his surprisingly soft lips pressed against mine, I broke the oath—and the oath that kept my guards up slowly came crumbling down.

Shit.


	2. Oath-Threats, Candyman Votes

I woke to some sort of clicking sound.

My eyes cracked open and I was faced with the frustrated expression that Kimmy Jin bore as she looked over me with clasped fingers. She clicked them again and I gasped, flinching back and hitting my head on the header of the bed—further increasing the headache that wracked my brain.

"Your alarm has been going off for _ages_, Beca," was all she said in her monotonous voice.

It read 10:32am—and I had to be in for work in less than half an hour. Shit.

Shit basically summed up everything from last night leading up to now. After Jesse kissed me and I had a moment to gather the situation, I had pushed him away and legged it. And when I mean legged it, I _was an Olympic marathon runner sprinting for gold. _And boy, did I receive the gold. Have you ever tried running in a floor-length black costume dress and a wig that didn't know its place on my head? Have you ever been kissed by a friend and had to run for the hills?

Well, I'm sure your reaction wouldn't be as bad as mine. I had no idea what sort of reaction I would've had if I hadn't consumed a few drinks in the process, but right now all I know was that I had to go into work with this pounding hangover and see Jesse. Shit, shit, shit.

I dragged whatever clothes seemed decent from a pile on the floor—I saw the Morticia dress and cringed—before carting myself out of the dorm.

"You're late," Luke said through the booth window as I dropped my bag to the ground and collected the accumulating pile of records in need of sorting.

"Sorry, big night," I gushed. Luke merely smirked and glanced to the other side of the room. "You're not the only one."

My gaze followed his to land on a sleeping Jesse, draped over his workload. My heart did this strange retraction as memories of last night crept their way into the front of my mind, and the fear of what was going to happen when he woke up remembering as well almost kept me from waking him. But on Luke's word, I had to go over to him and shake his shoulder. Jesse sniffed to his wake and stared confusedly, trying to piece together his reality.

"Having a nice sleep?" I asked, smiling.

"I wasn't sleeping, I was just admiring these CD's with my eyes closed," he said, rubbing them tiredly.

"When did you go to bed? Or should I ask if you went to bed?"

"I literally cannot remember anything after…I think it was when we karaoke'd," Jesse said, mid-thought. "Did I win?"

"Y-you don't remember anything after that?" I said hesitantly, attempting to make my surprise more subtle.

"Should I?" he asked.

_Should he?_ I asked myself. Do I say, '_There might have been that moment when you kissed me and I practically ditched you on the spot—but who really cares about the details'_?

Instead (and against my better judgement) I said, "Nope, I'm just thinking how amusing it is that you got so smashed you lost your memory."

"Huh," he said, shrugging. "I hope I haven't forgotten anything important."

Like kissing me? Nope, as if.

We continued to get on with our jobs, but I couldn't escape the thoughts buzzing through my head. So, he didn't remember—I should be relieved, right?

* * *

"Bellas, listen up," Aubrey called attention to us as we gathered in the rehearsals room. In her hand were forms of some sort, and once we were all listening, she announced, "Barden is holding an all-new a cappella competition; separate from the ICCA's. First prize is worth $15,000, and, of course, we will be entering," she mused as she handed out us a sheet each before sighing. "As will…The Treblemakers."

The group groaned in synchronisation.

"The Treblemakers will win, or am I the only one who saw them flog our asses at Regionals?" I said, folding my arms. I noticed Amy shift in her seat and mutter, "I'll flog Bumper if I get the chance."

Aubrey's lips were pursed like prunes and said, "It's simple for them to cavort around on stage and the audience think they're talented, but that is not my problem because we will win with sophistication, persistence, and a kick-ass song. I've already sorted out our Christina Aguilera chart-topper—"

"Is it _Candyman_?" I piped up. "I've done the sickest remix—"

"Beca," Aubrey cut in, silencing me. "I'm sure your beats are totally 'sick', but we need to focus on what will make us win. That is why I've chosen _Hurt_."

"That song is depressing. We need something that will excite the judges, not put them to sleep," I said, receiving a few subtle nods of agreement with the girls. No one had the guts to confidently come forward with their opinion against Aubrey's—except for me and Chloe; although she has difficulty with that too.

"I don't think you should have a say in this, Beca, after your little oath-threatening performance last night with Jesse."

I internally froze. What—did she see us kiss?

"What do you mean?" I said, raising an eyebrow in the most unsuspicious way.

"Oh, don't tell me you forgot the karaoke."

No, we all remembered that, it was what happened next that seemed to have slipped everyone's minds. Perhaps it was better off that no one saw it or could remember it; then I could forget too.

"Fine," I said, shrinking back in my chair. I wasn't about to give Aubrey the satisfaction of knowing she was right.

"But, Aubrey," Chloe intervened, raising her dainty hand. "Beca has a point; _Candyman_ is still one of Aguilera's greatest hits. We could add our own twist to it—"

"Chloe, let me remind you who has the Pitch Pipe," Aubrey said, pulling it out for emphasis and good measure. Chloe, as usual, tightened her mouth shut and nodded faintly, clearly concealing the hurt that Aubrey caused from dismissing her. "It is important that we win this competition because the prize money will be such an advance for The Bellas."

"That's why I'm saying _Candyman_, Aubrey," I said frustratingly. "I know we can we win with it because we have the potential to smash it in the competition. Isn't that what you want; to beat The Trebles?"

Silence captured the room as Aubrey watched down on me through slits of eyes. She'd been holding the Pitch Pipe with such force I swear it was going to bend, but her attention snapped from mine to the next person who spoke up. "Why don't we just have a vote?" Cynthia Rose said, and everyone leaned that little more up in their seats.

"Alright then," Aubrey sneered. "Let's have a vote. Hands up for _Hurt_."

I literally felt her temper boiling when no one raised their arm. And looking around at the group, not one of them had their eyes up either. Aubrey then muttered, "Hands up for _Candyman_."

Each and every one of the arms in the room were raised, including mine—confidently struck up in the air to show that I didn't care how Aubrey treated me, for I knew she still needed me more than I needed her for the Semi-Finals in a couple of months.

"Fine," she snapped. "_Candyman_ it is—but we do it _my_ way."


End file.
